Seven Voices
by Intention10
Summary: The Seven reflect on what they've learned after the war.


**A/N: I hope you enjoy this short little fic. ^^ I own nothing.**

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The horizon was blurry with the setting sun. Gold rippled like water, streaked with a pink that was reminiscient of blood in water. The stars weren't yet visible, but they soon would be.

Seven voices laughed and chattered. The wind gusted, and the smell of strawberries and sweat mixed up with the fresh air. The grass was lush and green, dotted with small plain yellow flowers. Something like happiness filled the atmosphere, but at the same time deep shadows, so deep one could drown in them, were growing by the second, and as the sun sank and the stars came out, a bittersweetness silenced the seven voices as their owners took in the night.

One was thinking about the sky, how cruel it could be, how it could swallow up a bird, no matter how special, and never let it go. Sometimes it rippled with rainbows, but that was on the part of a kinder element, and it wasn't the sky doing it. It was good that you couldn't touch the sky, sometimes. "My last image of you, and you show me messy hair?" 'I learned to let go, and I will stay firm to my duty.'

One was thinking about the earth on which all seven sat on. There were endless treasures and stories trapped under the suffocating surface, and if only one could harness it, they could have the world. But, maybe you wouldn't want the world. Sometimes it was destructive. Perhaps it was better to just steadily stay on top of it, a middle ground. "A poisoned child." 'I forgive her, because if I don't, I will poison myself.'

One was thinking about how brightly the moon shone, a beacon for all who had lost their way. No matter where someone ran, they could see that brightness, gleaming like flame and colder than snow. But snow was too heartless. It froze people in cold, and in fear, with its horrible beauty. People had fallen for it before. There had to be warmth to counteract it, or else it would never melt. It was best, maybe, to watch the moon from afar. "And we don't need any more catastrophes." 'And then everyone needed me, and I was there for them. And that was okay.'

One was thinking about the understated beauty of the field. It was mostly only a wave of green grass, but if a person picked one blade, and looked at it, it would have a billion colors. Specks of weak yellow flowers spotted the field, striving hopelessly to survive. There had been a connection in that, maybe, but not anymore. "I can drive men mad or heal them with my voice." 'It's not what you're capable of that matters, it's what you're willing to do.'

One was thinking about how the wind blew occasionally through the air, stirring hair and hearts. It was known that it could cool or warm someone, like a pleasant reassurance. But the wind was unpredictable. It had no patterns, sometimes it hurt, and that was sad, not silly. The wind was forever but at the same time, it ended always, and it was always struggling to renew itself. Was that what they were, the seven voices, crying to be heard? No. Unlike the wind, they were hopeful, not desperate. There was a difference, bigger than the wind itself. "It's enough to drive anyone mad." 'I won't be a servant; I will choose my own path.'

One was thinking about how quickly the sun had faded out, taking its warm, soothing light and leaving behind only darkness. But there was still something there to depend on, though, wasn't there? The stars and moon wouldn't abandon them. And the night was beautiful. The night was a time to remember, and to pause. "She casts aside even her own daughter." 'I will always stand by what is right.'

One was thinking about the stars. So many of them, so far away, dabbing at the sky at random intervals. Miles of chaos and brightness, exploding into something small. They were something anyone would miss if they hadn't seen them for a while. They were shining and patient, those stars. They would wait forever. That was good. "Say hello to the stars for me." 'So many have sacrificed for me, and every one pushes me to go on and live for them.'

All seven watched the world, silent, and knew that they were part of it.


End file.
